Nothing More than Echoes
by Burning Stars
Summary: Snippets detailing a brief experience of one tribute from three separate past arenas as they fight to their survival and come to terms with their situation. May add more chapters later on.


**I do not own the Hunger Games.**

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**32 - Forgive  
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The blue water crashes against the shore, waves blinding in the sunlight. Thin sheets of bubbly, sandy water rush around me, washing over my arms and chest and legs, probing the cut on my back with painfully precise fingers. I watch the waves carry a river of my own blood into the ocean, the slick red quickly morphing into foamy pink. Strands of my cornsilk hair lie mixed with the wet sand, and that day in the chariots seems so far away, when my hair stood in arches and loops that seemed to defy gravity, as if by magic.

Sopping footsteps sound closer and closer, until a cold shadow creeps across my broken form.

"Aww, look," he says, voice low and coarse, "she's all alone. Did your friend abandon you?" He leans down, and I feel his breath on the back of my neck, warm and soft and vicous. "How sad."

_No, _I think, saline welling in my eyes, slipping down my face to mix with the ocean brine. _I _made _Adriel leave me behind._

Adriel actually has a chance.

And I'm not going to lie to myself. Not now. Not at the end.

I hear him noch an arrow in his black bow, the one he stole from me almost a week ago. Fear seizes me, and I let out a choked sob.

My parents are watching right now. My sisters are watching right now. Aaron is watching right now. And I've failed each and every one of them.

I don't want to die.

"Damn it," I whisper, staring out at the glimmering sapphire horizon.

"I'll make it quick," he says, almost regretful.

An odd feeling floods through me. Facing death, I no longer have to worry about the consequences of my actions. Nothing more is expected of me, and I won't live to see another minute. This world is now irrelevant to me. So, I say the only thing left on my mind. "I forgive you, Seth."

He pauses, and remains silent for a long time. "Laurel."

I look up at him, meeting his brown eyes. "What?"

With a wry smile, he raises the bow, aiming the arrow at my right temple. "You're really something, you know that?"

Now it's my turn to smile, even through the tears, even through the pain.

And at least he didn't lie.

It was quick.

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**17 - Because**

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I peek out of the shattered window at the empty streets below. The Careers are nowhere to be found, but that means they could be hiding anywhere. At the end of the ancient, cracked road, the cement Cornucopia sits, dauntingly full of food, even though I know that every bit of sustenance on those tables would kill me in a matter of seconds. I watched it happen to my district partner.

She didn't even have time to realize what had happened. Her skin turned purple, blue veins popped out on her hands, neck, face, and then she just started vomiting blood, vomiting everything up until nothing was left but bones and a sack of skin.

I hate the Hunger Games.

"See anything?" Juno asks, creeping up alongside me. Her district partner was killed by a Career. Dagger to the heart.

I flip my hood up as a cold gust of wind rushes through the bombed-out building. "No, nothing yet."

She places a cinnamon-skinned hand on the windowsill, tentatively looking out at the street for herself, black eyes scanning the overgrown roadway. "No, I guess not." What, she doesn't trust my judgment? "But they're planning something. There are only five non-careers left, including you and me."

Like I didn't already know that. "Maybe they'll go after the kids from District Seven first," I say, careful to keep my voice barely above a whisper. "They're the biggest threat, really."

"Or maybe they'll come after us, since we're easier to kill," she mutters. Always the optimist.

"Well, aren't you just-"

Something downstairs falls to the floor with a heavy _thunk_, and my heart drops. Juno and I exchange a look of pure horror as two obviously male voices drift up to us, one scolding the other for being so careless, while the other unsuccessfully tries to defend himself.

Fearfully, Juno slowly stands, even though I frantically motion her to sit down.

She doesn't pay attention, and the board underneath her lets out a pained squeal. Everything goes silent.

I look up at her, and she at me, our eyes wide, a thousand words unspoken between us.

Thunderous footsteps sound across the bottom floor, then up the stairs, then down the hallway, while Juno and I try to find a way out. We run through the old, intricate doorway to the windowless room in the back of the building, straight to the secret passageway we discovered two days ago. Our efforts are too little, too late, though.

A dark-skinned male, the one from District Two, rounds the corner, his hulking frame silhouetted by the gray light of the broken window. Next to him, the much scrawnier kid from District Four appears, clutching a javelin, hand obviously trembling as he pushes the blonde hair out of his face.

"Well, well, well," the bigger one mutters, teeth shining in the low light. "Look what he have here. The last of Districts Three" he says, pointing to me, "and District Eight," he continues, pointing at Juno. "What a find." The quality of his voice frightens me. It's as if he enjoys instilling fear. What sane human being enjoys terrifying, hurting, and killing other people? Sick creep.

He takes a taunting step forward, grinning at me and my ally.

"I wouldn't step any closer if I were you," I say, feeling the tiny plastic box weight heavily in my jacket pocket.

District Two stops. "Oh? And why would I do that?" he asks, raising his sword in an obviously threatening gesture.

Should I?

_Can_ I?

He starts advancing, slowly, menacingly, trying to psych us out. Without warning, he lets out a scream and breaks into a run.

No choice.

I grab Juno's arm and drag her behind the metal desk with me, before ripping the plastic box out of my pocket quickly as I can, pressing the red button with a stony finality.

Five explosions rock the room, one for each charge I placed on the walls. I hear two pained screams as the nails, pellets, and other shrapnel I mixed in with the charges rips the two Careers to shreds.

After ten seconds of absolute silence, I peek over the edge of the desk. Rubble and debris cover the ground, and gray, dusty, foul smoke fills the air, prompting me to cough. I can barely pick out their two mangled bodies among all of the ruins.

I slump back down behind the desk, unable to meet Juno's shocked and accusatory gaze. I didn't tell her about the bombs.

"Because you don't mess with District Three," I say, wiping my sleeve across my forehead, clearing away a mat of dust and sweat and shame. "That's why."

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**59 - Here**

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I run.

The golden stalks of grass whip against my legs and hands and knees, but I continue to run as fast as my body will allow. I can't be here, I can't be there, I can't be anywhere. I have to escape this place.

Behind me, I hear the snarls of the beast, the many-faced monster that ate Marigold, ripped her skin from her bones. And now I run from this monster, the creature that now wears the face of my best friend, and the faces of all the other tributes that have died in this godforsaken arena. What kind of hell have the Gamemakers designed here? Surely this can't be a place that belongs on Earth.

It lets out an unnaturally shrill wail, the wretched sound jabbing into the air like a rude awakening, reminding me that I am here, now, playing a sadistic game for people who want to watch me die, who would gladly lay my life down if it means satisfying the Capitolites. They who so easily kill other peoples' children, who will never see their own flesh and blood sacrificed like lambs to the slaughter. Marigold would often ask me where the justice is in this world, and I used to answer that it was there, just hiding. But now I don't believe that any longer. In a world that pits friends against each other, simply because their ancestors lost a war, I believe that no justice exists. Not here. Not anymore.

The beast gets closer and closer, and my legs become slower and slower. God, why? Why now? What did I do to deserve this kind of death?

My lungs are burning and my chest is bursting and I can't run like this forever, and the air is dry and my mouth is dry and the sun beats down bright and, and, and damn it, I had things I wanted to do with my life.

None of it matters, though. Nothing that I ever did matterd, because it was all in vain, all worthless, everything I ever did will be wiped out by some creepy-ass muttation that eats peoples' faces. What a way to go.

The beast behind me lets out a harsh roar, but this one sounds different. I want to see why, but at the same time I want to keep running, _need_ to keep running. Only when I'm completely sure that it's stopped do I even consider slowing down.

I throw a glance over my shoulder, and wonder of wonders, I see a spear sticking out of the thing's back, between the plated shoulder blades, and bluish green blood pours from its spiky mouth, and its eyes look dead, and its claws go limp, and… _what?_

The Career girl from District One stands beside the creature, panting, her blonde hair falling out of a loosely made bun. Porcelain, I think her name was?

I stop running and lean my hands on my knees. She gazes at me with gray eyes, though I'm not entirely sure what she wants. If she's thinking of killing me, well, I'm screwed, because I couldn't sprint anymore even if I had to, and she's probably in much better shape than I am.

Porcelain rummages around in her bag, pulls something out, and approaches me with an odd gait. Well, I'm dead.

I had a good life, I guess.

But as she gets closer, I'm surprised to see that she doesn't hold a weapon. She merely holds a water bottle.

Offering it to me, she says, with a nod, "Here."

I merely stare, even though I want it so bad.

"It's not poisoned," she says, giving me a light smile. "I promise."

Tentatively, I take it. I haven't seen any drinkable water in a full day, and admittedly, the dehydration was beginning to get to me. I chug the bottle, exceedingly careful to not spill any of the vitally important liquid. Between breaths, I ask, "Why are you helping me?"

She shrugs, her expression telling me that she isn't quite sure herself. "Because. You helped me in the bloodbath. Figured I might return the favor." Huh. I didn't think she would have remembered that, let alone help me, her being a Career and all. Her eyebrows knit together, and she purses her lips. "But that's it. Favor repaid." Hiking her backpack up on her shoulder, she looks down at the ground, then back up at me. "Good luck, Cooper."

I smirk. Didn't think she'd remember my name, either. "Same to you, Porcelain."

With a brilliant smile, she leaves me standing on the golden, rolling hills, surprised that I found any humanity left in this hell.

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**Thanks for reading!**


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